


After the Rain Comes the Sun

by The_Pink_Argyle



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Angst and Romance, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-14
Updated: 2017-02-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 12:37:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8845372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Pink_Argyle/pseuds/The_Pink_Argyle
Summary: Kara's first person POV as Cat Grant returns to National City for one night. A storm of emotions is about to hit!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I knew this show would drop about 50 IQ points when it switched to the CW. What I didn't expect was how big the loss of the Cat Grant character would be. Let's hope the producers lure Mrs. Ford for a few more appearances!

Sunset is setting in and I am unusually unsettled.

Conveniently perched atop a giant stone eagle facade on the edge of National City's oldest bank, I scan the congested streets for trouble. This angle provides my ideal view of the area; one that gives me a clear visual of everything below and everything in the distance. All is quiet for now. There is no immediate need for my intervention.

Storm clouds are creeping in from the Northwest vector. One quick sniff of the air and I can accurately predict when those clouds will erupt better than any human radar. In exactly two hours, forty-three minutes and seven seconds, the downpour will soak the uptown museum center, the scene of this evening's charity soirée.

New York has the Guggenheim, LA has the Getty, and in National City, it's the Grant. The last word echoes in my mind as a heavy sigh escapes my dry lips. Tonight is the Starbright Ball, the signature annual event of The Grant Foundation which raises and donates a ton of money to needy local organizations. It is the ultimate 'see and be seen' occasion for dignitaries and socialites with hefty checkbooks. The black ties and big jewels will definitely be out in force.

And she will be there.

My breath catches. Catherine Grant will be there holding court and handling the coverage. The Queen of All Media simply must be in attendance. There is no taking a sabbatical from a cause so worthy, a cause so near and dear. Even though she stepped down from her glass and flatscreen throne at CatCo and disappeared into the winds of change, her presence is required tonight. Cat knows it. And so do I.

"Alex, I'm going to do one more sweep of the city and then I'm calling it a night."

"Copy that, Supergirl."

As I fly by and around the glittery edifices that make up the picturesque skyline, I can't help but gnash my teeth over the happenings of the last few months. Some decent, some downright awful, and all without her input. I understand Cat needed to move on with her life and tackle a new venture that was completely her own. Logically, I am very happy for her. Emotionally, she has left a void in my core larger than I had ever expected.

I endured what most would consider verbal abuse at her hand for years but it was actually the tough love and discipline I needed to become the almost human being I am now. Supergirl wouldn't be so super if she was mollycoddled. I could have easily walked (or flown) away at any time but I chose to stay. To learn. To grow. Losing my girlish awkwardness to her and blooming into the confidence of womanhood under her firm guidance was necessary. The hero within me is because she was the polish to my diamond, the whetstone to my blade.

And, Rao, how I miss Cat grinding and honing me on a daily basis!

"Supergirl, we've picked up an active shooter near the county hospital. NCPD is en route but if you could get there quicker..."

"On it."

I arrive momentarily and swiftly take care of the incident. No one is killed, only the gunman is injured as I knock him out. Another person distraught over outrageous medical bills and using a firearm to file a grievance. I will ask Snapper if I can run with the story tomorrow. Tonight, I have other plans.

"The situation is under control, Alex, officers are present and the suspect has been arrested."

"Way to go, Sis!"

"Hey, do me a favor, unless we are under attack by an alien force beyond the DEO's control, I am signing off until morning."

"Headed over to the museum gala?"

"That's the plan."

"So... do you think she'll show up?"

"She's already there, I can hear her cardiac rhythm."

"Heh, I bet you know it by heart."

"Funny, Agent Danvers."

"Don't worry, we and the NCPD got you covered."

"Thanks, Alex."

"Enjoy yourself tonight, Kara, you've earned it... and have a ball!"

"Oh, I plan on having something else."

The sound of my sister chuckling in my ear ends the connection as I turn off crime fighter mode and turn on something more primal. I take to the night sky and swirl with the outer vapors of the approaching storm. It cools me off and dampens my skin. My physical need for Cat Grant is becoming greater than my mental one. Absence makes the heart grow fonder but it also makes the clit throb harder.

I never even would've considered saying those words to myself months ago but presently they inhabit my every thought. My typical, timid paintings of pastel vistas and simple sailboats have suddenly turned into erotic expressions of two female forms entwined in a vibrant, messy heap. In a few short hours, I plan on making those paintings come to life.

New players have entered my world since she departed but they only emphasize to me how much I want her and not them. James and Winn are taking their white hats to the next level. Did they really think they could fool me for long? I suppose I can't fault them since I tried to pull the same con on Cat. She knows I'm Supergirl. She's just waiting for me to admit it to her. Maybe tonight. But I don't plan on doing much talking.

Alex has a girlfriend! Yes. Alex. Girlfriend. My sister confessing her truth to me and admitting to her feelings for a special NCPD detective threw me for a loop. Not because she's attracted to women but because it underscored my own buried desire for one older woman in particular. I can no longer resist. Before the dawn emerges, that desire will be on full display.

Lena Luthor and I have a lot in common. Another member of the 'Mommy Issues' club. And she is insanely attractive. However, not only is she part of a family whose sole mission is to destroy my cousin, but I also sense her to be a needy woo girl hiding behind a designer suit and running a business that is way over her head; a poor imitation of Catherine the Great. Hopefully, one day, she'll lose the baggage and mature into Cat's killer stilettos.

And then there's Mon-El, the Daxamite man child who magically fell from the sky in front of me. How very deus ex machina! The wry tone of Ms. Grant fills my head. And what kind of name is Mon-El? It sounds like a yeast infection cream. A yeast infection would be the least of my concerns considering he copulates with everything in sight. He leers at me with the same sickening adoration that I'm certain I showered on Cat. No wonder she left. He teasingly calls me 'princess.' No, little boy, I am a freaking empress! The Empress of Krypton. And I have finally found my true mate.

Tonight, this empress will be claiming her queen. Repeatedly.


	2. Chapter 2

Two hours, eight minutes and eleven seconds until the storm hits.

High enough not to be spotted by the peeping cameras of the news helicopters yet low enough not to interfere with commercial airliners, I circle around the museum center preparing for my maximum impact arrival. I dodge the white beams of a half dozen spotlights as they swing by in a languid windshield wiper pattern alerting National City to the festivities on the ground.

Cat will be leaving the trustee office inside the main wing momentarily. After examining and approving every infinitesimal detail of the gala, she will gulp a small bottle of spring water and chomp no more than three peppermints before sneaking down to the underground loading bay. Once there, she will climb into the back of her classic white Bentley, put on the final touches to dark, dramatic eyes and lips, and then command her driver to make the short trip to the front of the complex.

She has done this every year since I have worked at CatCo and this year is no different. Except I am different. I know she senses this. Right on cue, the shiny showpiece pulls up to the polished limestone steps of the main entrance. Other patrons pause in deference to the esteemed media royalty. All eyes are on her, including mine. I decide to drop down a few hundred feet for a closer look and…

AHAHAHAHA.

Well played, Ms. Grant! The strapless, semi-backless, couture gown is in a very distinctive, very familiar shade of green. Coincidence? There is no such thing when Catherine chooses a hue. Last year, it was a gaudy lavender as a deliberate affront to an ambassador she politically did not agree with and personally found distasteful.

This year's color of choice - Kryptonite - has a unique spectrum signature undetectable to the human eye but my eyes see it as brightly as sunshine. And it is expertly mimicked in every fiber of the material. Her designer must have wondered what absinthe-fueled fantasy inspired this selection. The dress is pure danger in symbolism only. My true fear is that I will rip it with zeal.

As she makes her grand Grant entrance and works the press line like a maestro, the camera flashes are more frenetic this time. Wait a minute, there is man candy on her arm! He is all tan, teeth, and hair. Who in the name of Rao is that? I am too distracted to slow my descent and practically drop down on top of them. Sorry. Not sorry.

"Supergirl, Supergirl, over here, Supergirl!”

The flashes are all mine now as I slowly stand up and smile my heavily coached optic grin. I am a major blue and red disruptor to Cat's precisely timed publicity promenade.

"Supergirl, to your left, why are you here tonight, can we get a shot of you and…"

I tune out the cacophonous calls of the shutterbugs and ignore the inquiries of the talking heads attempting to trick a sellable sound bite out of me. My voice is all authority.

"Catherine Grant!”

I use her full name loudly and to her face. She is annoyed but silently answers with her usual stoicism. I make a beeline for her body, brushing by her bewildered tuxedoed accessory along the way. With a slight tug, I photo op embrace her for the hungry hordes while slyly placing my hand on the small of her exposed back. I speak like a politician.

"National City is happy to have you home.”

Turning enough to be out of the line of focus, my fingers slide lower than the dress border to trace her sacral vertebrae. The same power that allows me to pop a champagne cork simply by holding the bottle pulses out of my tips and travels down her pudendal nerve. It's not enough to be a violation but enough to get her attention. It's enough to show my intention. Her knees quiver ever so slightly as she embraces my neck to steady herself. A tiny gasp is released in my ear. Message received.

“Supergirl...“

Cat pulls away and studies my face for a split second. It's not long enough for anyone else to notice but it is an eternity for me to see the desire in her eyes mirroring mine. She immediately blinks them back to apathy.

"On behalf of the museum board, thank you for being here tonight.”

"The pleasure is all mine, Ms. Grant.”

"I take it I will be seeing more of you later?”

"You absolutely will.”

"Delightful... and be sure to try the shrimp quiche, it's superb.”

I reluctantly release her back to her preening penguin escort and wave as they strut inside the building. The irrational urge to punch this man whom I have never met is oddly upsetting. Thankfully, a friendly voice shouts at me from the cluster of photojournalists. I spot a grinning James taking my picture as he beckons for us to go inside. It's a good idea and I follow him to a quieter corner. His voice suddenly lowers.

"Hey, are you okay?”

“Fine, why do you ask?”

“You seem a little distracted tonight.”

"You have no idea how excited I am to be here.”

He looks at me with total disbelief.

"I thought you hated this event?”

“Kara hated all of the extra work Ms. Grant had me do for this event... but I'm here in an entirely different capacity now.”

“Okay.”

James narrows his brow at me wondering what I meant. I change the subject.

"Speaking of Ms. Grant, who was that hairy dude with her?”

"Um, you are kidding, right?”

By emphatically shrugging my shoulders at him, I prove that am not joking. He gapes at me with even more disbelief.

"You mean to tell me that you don't know who Botto is?”

"Nope, never heard of him.”

James leans back as if I had just kicked him in the gut. He attempts to explain.

“Botto is only one of the all-time greats in FIFA history - if Pelé and Messi had son, it would be this man.”

"I don't know who those other two are either but I hope they are very happy together.”

My answer causes my friend to laugh and shake his head.

"For someone who could win every Olympic event, you are so not a jock!”

Before James dives off into the deep end of boring ball talk, I pivot back to my concern.

"How long has Botto been with Ms. Grant?”

"Been with... wow, you really don't know a thing about their relationship, do you?”

"That's why I'm asking.”

"I can't believe the entire time you worked with Cat that he never came up.”

"James, please!”

“Whoa, chill.”

  “Sorry, go on.”

"They have been close friends for over a decade, he helps her boost magazine sales with his glamorous good looks.”

"Ah, I think I am starting to remember now.”

"And she helps him when he gets caught with a busboy.”

It takes me a second to add two and two together. The lightbulb finally goes on.

"She's his beard?”

"Yeah, his country, not to mention sports in general, is very conservative and would be less than forgiving if everyone found out their favorite macho son played for the home team… if you know what I mean.”

"That's awful.”

"Sadly, 2016 is still like 1016 in most parts of the world.”

"I don't get this planet sometimes.”

"He is one of my true heroes for what he does for children's charities.”

"I take it that's how he met Cat?”

"Yep, and she gave me the honor of doing one of his cover shoots…"

James prattles on for a few minutes about the details of the shoot. I pretend to pay attention when Cat glides by with a throng of admirers. We side eye each other with the appropriate amount of smolder and discretion. I debate whether or not to join her when my friends annoyingly snaps his fingers at me.

"Where did you go just now, Kara?”

“What?”

“Is the DEO in your ear alerting you to something?”  

“No, I’m off the clock tonight.”  

“When are you ever off the clock?”  

“Unless there is a nuclear explosion, I’m taking some personal time tonight - now, I’m sorry I was distracted before, what were you saying?”

“Well, I basically admitted to Botto hitting on me and how I seriously considered it before turning him down.”

“And why did you?”

"C'mon, you know I don't play that way.”

"Huh, your loss.”

I am rapidly growing bored with this conversation but the perplexed look on his face causes me to giggle.

“I wish I had your camera right now to take your picture.”

“You are acting really weird tonight.”

“Ooh, here comes Ms. Grant.”

Keeping me within a comfortable distance, Cat carefully navigates Botto around the room. She prominently holds his hand, showing him off to the gushing guests and the gossip wonks. James also notices this and grins.

"Cat protects him and his secret.”

"I didn't think it was possible to admire that woman even more but I do.”

He turns to look at me.

"It's because she cares for him deeply.”

Uh-oh. Those words aren’t only about the power couple across the way. I could tell James is gearing up for a serious discussion I’m in no mood to have, especially at a noisy gala with distracting cubist paintings covering the walls. He launches anyway.

"Kara... I've been wanting to talk to you about something.”

"Another time, I have to go.”

I deposit a chaste bro slap on his back since Cat is the only thing on my mind. Well, almost. A server walks by us with a tempting tray of appetizers and I pop a couple in my mouth. I offer James some parting advice before I take off in pursuit of my queen.

"Be sure to try the shrimp quiche, it's delicious!”


	3. Chapter 3

One hour, twenty-two minutes and 12 seconds before the storm hits.

I find myself on the second floor in the Greek and Roman antiquities section after escaping James. Standing by the iron filigree railing, I overlook the merriment in the main atrium. Too many champagne cocktails, not nearly enough shrimp quiche!

An incongruous ambience of downtempo EDM and garish theatrical lighting surrounding authentic historical artifacts on every level is obscene. Knowing Cat, she did this deliberately to see if anyone else was in on the joke. We'll have a good laugh about it over breakfast in bed.

Right now, she is keeping Botto close and, for the greater good, chatting with the guests about silly subjects meant to syphon funds from their trusts. She continues to hold me in her view with equal parts stealth and curiosity. Every four seconds, she glances up in my direction to make sure I remain close enough. Three... Two... I'm not going anywhere, Catherine.

Like the large marble statue next to me, I stand solid and still. The irony of Apollo the Greek sun god standing by my shoulder is not lost on me. Folded arms bulges my biceps and my clenched jaw juts out a stern vibe.

Usually, people flock to my side to shake my hand or take a selfie or even give me their room number. But not tonight. They heed the warning. I am staring so intently at Cat, I don't even notice someone approaching from behind until I hear a sultry voice hover near my ear.

"Be careful, you might shatter her."

I turn around and regard the fury flecked bright eyes highlighting the painted porcelain face.

"Lena."

"Enjoying the view, Supergirl?"

My throat attempts to form an appropriate response to the lovely Luthor lady bathed in black satin. Regrettably, only a stilted answer stumbles out.

"Thank you for everything you did that night, I and this city owe you a great deal.”

"No worries, sacrificing what remained of my family for a bunch of unappreciative aliens is no biggie but a thank you note would have been nice."

Lena's casual words are laced with anger as she slams back her champagne glass to drown them. I know she deserves more than what I'm giving her but it's all that I have for tonight. Her inner sorority sister suddenly emerges as she drapes a friendly arm around me and smiles.

"Someone has a dirty little secret and I know what it is."

I gulp a lump of saliva and air while willfully ignoring her tease. She presses on as she presses against me.

"The way Cat Grant looks tonight, I want to bang her as hard as you do, Babe of Steel.”

I start to protest but the leader of L-Corp is a sharp one and I’m not about to insult her with halfhearted falsehoods. I muzzle my words and bow my head. She scoffs and turns serious.

"For the last ten minutes, I have been watching you watching her and the way your eyes are consuming Cat…"

Lena grits her teeth as she grabs my forearm and digs her fingernails into it.

"I would die for someone to look at me with even a fraction of that amount of intensity.”

"I am only keeping guard, Ms. Luthor.”

"Guarding what exactly, Supergirl, the billions of dollars worth of art surrounding us or Cat Grant's g-string?”

She releases a half cackle as I pluck her hand off of my arm and toss it aside. It's my turn to hover near her ear with a sultry voice.

"Cat's not wearing any underwear.”

Lena is momentarily rendered mute but her stunned expression says it all. As I take my leave, I point out James in a sea of stuffy suits swarming the bar.

"Please be sure to introduce yourself to Mr. Olsen, I think you two would hit it off.”

"If you and Ms. Grant need a third later tonight, come find me.”

I wave her off with the final word.

"Try the shrimp quiche, it's mouthwatering!”

My footsteps reverberate in my ears as I strut along an arched hallway filled with philanthropists and philanders. Once again, Cat is in my crosshairs. She senses me watching and carefully sips from her champagne glass. Botto and everyone else is too preoccupied to notice our private pas de deux.

Cat flashes a crooked grin and then motions to a waiter in the corner. He respectfully approaches me and presents a cool cocktail. Before I can protest, he hands over the drink with a small white napkin.

“I was instructed to tell you not to worry, it’s only ginger beer with blueberry and raspberry ice cubes.”

He departs without uttering another word. I curse Cat for knowing that I’m thirsty before I do. Half the glass is drained before I spy a note on the napkin next to a lipstick kiss print. The peculiar scrawl belongs to my one and only queen. It reads: ‘Meet me in the sculpture garden.’

I look up and she’s already gone. After downing the rest of my drink, I fold up the naughty napkin and tuck it inside my boot. I’m about to take off when National City’s zaftig mayor and her gangly husband saunter over to engage in political schmoozing and social media credibility. Gah!

Ten painful minutes pass before I am finally able to break free from their flattery. Others try to corral me into their conversations but I use my super speed to escape into the sculpture garden.

Dwarfed by a giant piece of modern art junk, Cat studies the fractured shape before her. I’ve seen similar pieces back on Krypton’s garbage moon. My arrival causes her to shift her gaze to me. She scowls and growls.

“You’re lucky I didn’t slap you for your little stunt out front.”

“I thought I was on the invite list, Ms. Grant.”

Cat steps closer to me with tempered aggression.

“Deliberately being obtuse is not helping your cause.”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

I try to feign innocence but the wide beam across my face betrays me. Cat’s voice is deep and liquid.

“You know exactly what I mean.”

I slide my hand behind her and trail my fingers along the bare skin of her back. She fails to keep her emotions in check and falls into my electric spinal tap. My voice drops an octave.

“Oh, you mean this?”

“Not funny!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“I didn’t say that.”

She trembles and titters before murmuring in my eager ear as I intensify my touch.

“Mmm, cheater.”   

“You’d prefer non-enhanced human mode?”

  “I’d prefer to know what the hell is going on.”

“I believe you already do.”

  She softens and inspects every part of my face.

“You don’t seem to be under the influence of anything, do you mind explaining your sudden urge to take me to bed?”

“No need for a bed, I can take you anywhere, and it’s not really that sudden when you think about it.”

“This is not the ideal occasion for a revelation of this magnitude.”

“I only wanted to get your attention, Catherine.”

“Well, now you have it.”

I pull her close for a long awaited kiss but break off at the last second when I hear footsteps around the corner. A distinctive couple with graying hair and a yapping yorkie in a bedazzled doggie carrier stroll by.

“Beautiful evening, isn’t it?”  

“It is.” 

 Cat’s charm for the pair is genuine. I chime in to prevent an unwanted dialogue.

“But a storm is on its way, best to get inside soon!”

My teeth ache from smiling too hard. Their little dog peeks out at me as they exit. Cat keeps me at a safe distance and snaps back to formality in case we are interrupted again.

“Tell me, Supergirl, what do you think of the Pruundhe?”

I don’t care if we are interrupted again. I run my impatient fingers up the side of her bare neck, nearly knocking off a million-dollar emerald earring in the process. Cat is still a bit standoffish but I detect her increased pulse. I look aghast at the so-called sculpture and then back to her.

“I think it would be better with you splayed naked on top of it and me eating your…”  

“Now, now, keep it under your cape… for the time being.”

Sigh. I squint my eyes and turn my nose up at the shiny metal stack.

“I’m trying really hard to find something nice to say but, in all honesty, it looks like a chunk of a building that broke off during my fight with Cadmus.”

A smile cracks the corners of Cat’s lips.

“Sadly, I agree.”

  “Please tell me that was donated and you didn’t spend a dime on it.”

  “We got it in a trade for something as equally as preposterous.”

I desperately want to fly us off into the dark sky above but I continue to play the game and keep my composure. 

“The next time I accidentally melt some glass with my eyes, I will be sure to emblazon the House of El symbol on it and send it over.”

“Now, that will be worth something!”

“Shall we go somewhere else… please?”  

“The night is young and I have hosting duties.”

“And beard duties.”

“Console yourself with shrimp quiche until we can figure something else out.”

Dammit! Now others have made their way to the garden. They hang back but I can tell they want to join us. Cat continues with the palaver bubble to keep people away and unaware of our true banter.

“So, Supergirl, I was speaking with a group of television producers earlier.”

“Ugh, I’m sorry you had to endure that, Cat.”

“They want to do a show about you.”

“Oh, Rao, really?”

“Now, the conundrum is: how do they make a series that extolls your virtues and powers without emasculating most straight men who still prefer their female leads to be non-superior sex dolls while trying to attract a majority of straight women who would rather watch drunken reality housewives over a strong heroine who saves the world?”

“Uhh…”

“Exactly, to say it is a bit of a challenge is an understatement.”

“I pity the poor actress playing me, she would have to be strung up on wires.”

“The producers might get the gays by adding a more fashionable super suit and singing a few show tunes.

“At least the lesbians will watch.” 

“But, it can’t get too sapphic or it will turn off the right-wing Neanderthals and don’t even get me started on pre-teen viewers.”

“They could add a horse or a monkey?”

“Absolutely no pets!”  

“Huh, I can’t believe the Queen of All Media is stumped!”  

“I am completely confounded… any other thoughts, Supergirl?

“I only have one thought, Ms. Grant…”

Speaking in my native tongue, I let loose with a descriptive, sexually vulgar suggestion of what I want to do to Cat all night long. Instead of a clueless blank expression, a half-smirk curls her lips as she responds in fluent Kryptonese.

“Now, that would be a ratings grabber!”

I. Am. Floored.

“How? When?”

“After the little Myriad escapade, the DEO wanted to repay me for my assistance and I only had one request: to learn your language.”

“You learned all that in a few months?”

  “I’m a quick study, especially with linguistics.”

“Your mouth amazes me.”

“You have no idea what is in store for you.”

I forget that we are not alone in the garden. I lean in to kiss Cat but she spins away and laughs like I had told her the funniest, raunchiest joke ever. She points to a pack of young school kids huddled around another sculpture. Crap!

They stare at me with stars in their eyes. As the very special guests of one of the charities represented here tonight, they cannot be ignored. Nor should they. Cat beckons them over to our side and there is an immediate stampede.

“Who wants to play with Supergirl?”

The children all scream in unison.

“I do, I do!”

Cat mimics their sweet, singsong voice with a raspy whisper only I could hear.

“I do, I do…”

She licks her lips and winks at me as a dozen youngsters flock around and cover me with hugs. Then, they ask me to perform all kinds of aerial stunts while Cat creeps away.

“Have fun, everyone, I’m needed back inside.”

I try unsuccessfully to keep her with me.  

“You’re also needed out here, Ms. Grant.”

“I am the auction hostess and it will begin on the hour.”

Thank Rao I get to dodge that boring bullet! If I can’t be with my demanding doyenne, I’d rather be out here with the boys and girls making fun of the goofy sculptures. Before she is totally out of view, Cat calls back to me.

“And once you’re finished, Supergirl, please join me on the auction stage… you are the prize, after all!”

“Oh, fuh… Fudgsicle, who wants a Fudgsicle, kids?”

“I do, I do!”  

Yeah. Super. 


End file.
